Riddles
by Heckyehbaconpancakes
Summary: We don't all have happy families. And this is not the tale of one. A dark past, an even darker future. What does Hermione know that no one else seems to? "I really was expecting more of a fight. I guess the Malfoy name doesn't befit you, Draco dear." - Chapter I. Full summary and general outline inside. Not Dramione, although serious squabbling lies ahead.
1. Chapter I

Riddles

Bacon. It's like a high-five for your mouth.  
\- Irrelevant quotes brought to you by Heckyehbaconpancakes. I feel like this should be the time to say that I am a vegetarian.

 **Summary:**

So, if you actually wanted to know what this story's about instead of just reading one of those crappy five word summaries that you get at the beginning, then wait one second while I give a message to people who don't like spoilers: turn away now, and read chapter one. Be none the wiser while you still can.

Okay, so this is an AU where Hermione is a Slytherin - who, wait for it ... was not actually born in 1979.

No, this is not a time-travel story. She was born in 1926. Looking at the picture will pretty much tell you what this story is about if you do your research. I wouldn't advise it though, because that would probably spoil the first few chapters for you. But if you're like me then you will anyway.

Well, this is the end of the summary because I don't want to say too much. Thank you for reading this.

P.S. **DO NOT WORRY. THIS IS NOT TOMIONE. OR VOLMIONE.**

P.P.S. Sorry not sorry if you were hoping for that.

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Royals by Lorde. I own some of the plot line (any resemblance to the Harry Potter plot line is not mine, JK Rowling wrote that obviously) and my story ideas, nothing else.**

* * *

 **Chapter I**

It was a shock, to say the least, for Hermione's muggle parents when she received her Hogwarts letter. For her, it was inevitable: by Hermione's seventh birthday, she could feel the magic spark at her fingertips at every emotional surge. At first, it was uncontrollable - a deep emerald fire would threaten to engulf her soul, a ball of bright green flames forming in the palm of her hand.

She once managed to light her primary school on fire when she was still fixated around her somewhat troubling past, her mind still tied to the idea of merciless revenge.

 _The blazing flames encircled her petite frame, heating her skin to immense temperatures. By this time, the rest of the school had evacuated the surrounding area and found themselves one body short. Hermione had hoped it was two. Of course, she was the missing person, but she wanted that bastard to be the one in the fire. The one with flames eating away at their flesh._

 _Pain clouded her vision as she fought to hold on to her anger. She was embracing it, just as the books said. After what seemed like hours through the searing ocean of pain, the fire that once consumed her burst from its cage. The relentless flames had been tamed - releasing Hermione from their tight hold, letting her knees succumb to the sudden heaviness of her own body and her head fall to the merciless floor._

That was one of her worst attacks. They seemed to end after that, thankfully. Her sanity couldn't take much more of the endless torture that clouded her childhood.

Hermione thought about this boarding the train that would lead her to one of the most prestigious school of wizarding Britain. The Hogwarts Express. No words could describe the train accurately - it was too stunning to transfer on to paper. She had read enough about it to know that the most vivid descriptions did not do it justice.

She looked over to the clock on the wall opposite the train. It read 10.48; plenty of time to get a carriage. She was shoved to the side by a hoard of eleven-year-olds on hyper drive as she tried to board the train, their giggles echoing through the corridor as she searched for an empty carriage - or at least one that was sparsely filled so as to not disturb what little peace and quiet she would have for the entirety of her first year.

A few doors in, she found one with only one seat filled. A striking girl with pale, almost translucent, hair occupied the seat farthest away from the door - her nose buried far in a thickly-spined book entitled: _Nymphs and their mating rituals_. Hermione could tell she would like this girl. Smirking briefly, Hermione let her face fade into a mask of feigned nervousness as she slid the door open.

"Hi, um ... is anyone sitting there?" She asked, gesturing to the seat opposite the one the girl was already sitting in.

She replied in a dreamy voice, the edges of her eyes twinkling as she briefly studied the worn seat. "No, I don't think so. You're quite safe at the moment. I don't think the Nargles will arrive for at least another two hours or so."

Hermione just smiled softly at the girl and sat carefully on the edge, slowly sinking further into it until she realised that her trunk was still in the luggage area - she hadn't quite perfected the enlargement charm to do on her backpack yet: there was still a slight risk of it getting as big as her house on the inside. She thought that might be hard to rummage through when she needed to find her toothbrush or a book. For now, she needed to get the rest of her things (that were still in her bedroom) to the manor - things that she couldn't exactly bring to the grounds without raising alarm. Especially for a mudblood like herself. She scoffed inwardly at the slur - she thought the wizarding race would have advanced from when she was an infant in terms of racism, or at least creativity. Hermione could think of at least fifty different ingenious ways to insult someone deemed as 'lower class' due to their blood status _without_ actually seeming like a pompous arse.

She accioed a book from her trunk that had captivated her thoughts throughout the summer months, disguised well - with an illusion charm from said book - as a classic Jane Austen book (Sense and Sensibility). She supposed that's what a witch of her intelligence from the muggle world would read: she had actually read the book several times and still enjoyed it. That's probably what made it easy to believe that Sense and Sensibility was her book of choice. It would, at least, be easier to believe than a muggleborn (who has, presumably, no knowledge of the wizarding world) reading _Artibus Tenebris_. Arts of Dark, it directly translates as. Hermione, as always, rolled her eyes at the scrawled writing on the inside cover. It read: _Wards - how to use and break, and every charm or spell every housewife should know._

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione noticed the girl tear her eyes away from the book she was engrossed in. She looked up with a detached expression and a smooth, high voice (similar to that of a fairy's) spoke the words, "That's a nice charm you've got there. I was thinking of doing something similar to the book I've got here, but I thought it would look as if I had something to hide. I have a feeling the topic makes people feel uncomfortable - I don't really see why though." The Irish lilt to her words could easily fool anyone in to thinking that she was as harmless as the fairy her voice resembled, but Hermione wasn't just anyone.

"Thanks. I'm Hermione Granger - I assume you'll be wanting to get into Ravenclaw. You're definitely smart enough." She didn't lie. The fairy girl was most definitely smarter than almost everyone in the entire school - probably including the vast majority of teachers. Hermione didn't even need to know those people to make her decision final.

"That's very kind of you, Hermione. I've been told not to expect that of Slytherins, but I guess you can't really trust people who say nothing but half-truths and rumors. Oops, I went on a bit of a tangent there. I'm Luna. Lovegood. You can call me Loony if you'd like - everyone else already seems to. No idea why, I might add." Luna replied, smiling wistfully at what seemed like nothing. Hermione didn't even question how Luna was so certain of Hermione's sorting, seeing as it hadn't quite yet happened.

"I think I'll stick to calling you Luna. It suits you. Every moon has a dark side." Hermione replied, no doubt in her mind that Luna knew exactly which book Hermione was reading - she probably even knew the inscription in the cover. Or at least knew _of_ it. She offered Luna a smirk which was returned almost instantly.

"Yes, I suppose they do." Was all she said, an amused glint in her eye. This soon changed to one of complete focus as both girls retreated to reading their books, their minds lingering on what the other had said.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione noticed a sea of orange heads rushing to the doors of the soon-leaving Hogwarts Express from her misty window. _"Weasleys,"_ she muttered, earning a slightly raised eyebrow from Luna. Tattered robes encircled at least the better half of the clan - another observation that Hermione didn't fail to notice.

 _Definitely Weasleys,_ she added in her head. Suppressing a growl, Hermione reluctantly dragged her eyes back to her page, re-reading at least half a page before her eyes landed on a paragraph that she hadn't remembered reading previously. The last thing she needed was to meet the Potter boy. She just couldn't wait.

* * *

Heavy footsteps rushing to the sliding door of their compartment pulled Hermione's eyes away from a page on Boggarts (something, she later found, that she would be studying in her third year) - she made a mental note to prepare for that.

Herself and Luna had already dressed into their robes - fairly shortly after the train left the station in fact, which allowed Hermione to follow the stumpy boy (who the steps belonged to) on his quest to find Trevor - his pet toad - that had escaped during the last-minute scrabble to board the train. Luna opted to stay and protect Hermione's seat from the Nargles that still had fifty-four minutes to arrive by Hermione's counting and Luna's previous estimation. As Hermione and the boy - Neville, Hermione later learned (most likely Neville Longbottom) - were leaving to search for the remainder of the journey, Hermione heard the unmistakable sound of a fairy's soft giggle. Instead of trying to drag the fairy by her long blonde hair to help in the toad hunt, Hermione decided to smirk at the girl's Slytherin-worthy tactics.

Using what shied people away from her to fuel her own motives. _Every moon really does have a dark side_ \- Hermione inwardly smirked as she thought about the possibilities of having alliances stretched out to other houses, of having a broader range of associates for her end game. It would be a challenge: who would trust a filthy mudblood, soon-to-be dirty Slytherin like her? Sarcasm almost physically dripped from her mind as these thoughts cluttered her mind - almost allowing her to trip on an empty chocolate frog case blocking her path through the train.

Just as she was about to explain the negative effects of littering (to the environment) to an unsuspecting Neville, she heard a first year bragging to his friend about a spell he had learnt from his brother. To turn a rat yellow. _This ought to be interesting._

She pocketed the case and turned to Neville to hurry him along, but turning around she saw no Neville in sight. Shrugging, Hermione turned to the carriage and pulled a veil of curiosity over her passive face. Moving in through the open sliding doors, she sighed exasperatedly and asked the question, "Has anyone seen a toad? A boy named Neville's lost one." After only just realising the inhabitants of the small space, Hermione (with much effort) suppressed an eye-roll for the Weasley and an Avada Kedavra for the Potter boy. _Let's see what the Weasley's got up his sleeve. Oh, and the Potter boy's decided to show his face after all._

Unsurprisingly, Hermione reached unknown amounts of self-control during the Weasley's performance that did not exactly reach magical heights. A giggle erupted shortly after - fortunately, the sound was out of earshot for the pair - as Hermione continued on her Magical Quest for Trevor the Toad, as she had so grandly anointed it in her mind to control an outburst of throat-ripping laughter that was sure to end in fits so gripping that it would be on par even to the cruciatus curse. A curse not too far off her expanding skill range. A curse she would be happy to try as soon as she needed - to test that exact theory.

It only then occurred to her that Neville was gone. Poof. Bam. Disappeared. She had been putting this off for long enough. Not finding Neville, although that would tie into her still-spinning web of lies. An obnoxious snort rang through the unusually still air, shortly followed by another - if possible - even more outrageous cackle with a squeal of "Drakey!" Jackpot.

Tip-toeing to the door which was conveniently blocked by a Homer Simpson look-a-like with more hair, she performed a quick Alohomora on the lock - stumbling in with an acted lack of balance. "I'm sorry - I'm looking for a toad. A boy named - Neville? What are you doing here? I thought you were looking for Trevor." She examined the room - it was clear from a glance that he was not there by his own accord.

On the seats were who she recognised as Draco Malfoy: arrogant, quick to violence and a boy force-fed his father's shit his entire life. That was her guess - there was no mistaking that it was the newest Malfoy heir. No way in hell. Next to him sat another person Hermione recognised: Blaise Zambini. Smooth Italian eligible bachelor of the wizarding world even as an eleven-year-old. The only girl in the room was still fawning over her 'Drakey-poos', it was not even worth mentioning a name for that ... creature. She recognised the figure standing at the door as Gregory Goyle, and the other boy in the room as Vincent Crabbe. It always payed well to ... learn things about one's future associates. Even when those methods were not approved of - at least to some extent.

A sneer crossed the face of Malfoy - a cruel expression that could only be achieved by hours of practising in a mirror. She was sure it would have cracked in that time. Hermione scoffed at the gesture that was clearly supposed to make her shake with fright - a sound which did not escape the notice the rest of the faces in the compartment.

The blonde snake took a step towards a quivering Neville and planted the tip of his wand in the center of his chest, punctuating his next words. "We were just showing Neville here a few jinxes I've been practising. Care to see?" Smirking, he aimed his wand instead at Hermione, his eyes turning a darker grey. Hermione's briefly turned a dark moss colour, a contrast to the calming hue of her usual chocolate orbs. As the fire moved to her fingertips, the crackle of her magic was heard by her ears only.

"Oh, I'd love to. After all - I'm just a mudblood. I'm sure there's no way I could possibly defend myself in the wizarding world." She pulled an equally aggressive smirk onto her face, watching the expressions of the soon-to-be Slytherins change from confusion to disgust in a matter of moments upon hearing the word mudblood. The bitch-witch snickered with enthusiasm as the scenario unfolded before her - clearly expecting her dear 'Drakey-poos' to have the upper hand.

Draco clenched his fists in anger and shot a jelly-legs jinx at a smiling Hermione, who (without the use of words or a wand) put up a shield charm around herself - making the spell ricochet off of her mid-thigh area onto a gaping bitch-witch, causing her knees to buckle, her arms to flail and her hand to grip on to a shell-shocked Draco.

His legs shook violently before collapsing on to the floor with the bitch-witch falling on top of him.

Sighing, Hermione turned to leave with an awe-struck Neville in tow - but not before calling to a furious Draco over her shoulder: "I really was expecting more of a fight. I guess the Malfoy name doesn't befit you, Draco dear." And with that final twist of the knife, Hermione had the whole of the room stifling laughter - all centering around the famous Draco Malfoy (as he finally managed to push the lump of a bitch-witch off of him) who was fuming with the heat of a thousand suns in the middle of Death Valley in the summer.

Strolling through the corridor of the never-ending train, Hermione spun around to place her hands on either side of Neville's shoulders. "Look, Neville. I think I'll have to get back to my seat. I've got some last-minute reading to do. I hope you find your toad."

Leaving a gaping Neville in her wake, Hermione abruptly turned and left in the search of Luna. Looking through all of the passing glass doors, she saw one with a familiar blonde-haired girl in it. She reminded herself to get her back for the stunt she pulled earlier, and plastered a grin on her face before entering the compartment.

Luna immediately smiled her evil fairy smirk at her new friend and asked the question, "Productive toad hunt, Hermione?"

"Why yes, you could put it that way. Discover anything new about Nymphs while I was gone?" She asked with similar casualness, Luna's face lighting up with intrigue as they delved into a lengthy conversation about a vast number of magical creatures. Again, Hermione had no doubt in her mind that Luna knew exactly what happened in that compartment. In truth, she was afraid of what the answer to 'How?' would be. It would soon be proven to be a mistake to question the methods of that certain fairy.

* * *

 **Author's Note**

I know hardly anyone reads these, but this is a new story so I thought it would help to tell anyone who is reading this about the background a bit. This is not the 'Hermione isn't who she thinks she is' FanFic about her and Draco. Well, it is, the only difference is she knows. And I don't think this will be Dramione. I'm trying to drop hints about her heritage, and I think that by chapter three you might be able to figure it out. Hopefully. Or at least you could guess. Anyway, I really hope you guys like it. Hermione might seem a bit OOC, but you will know why shortly. I say shortly, I mean now for at least five chapters. If you like it, then please vote or comment so I know what you think. If you steal it, then I will actually become Jigsaw and go all apeshit crazy. So don't. If you hate it, then make sure to tell me with all your passion what you loathe about it. I will be sure to not give any fucks. Those are reserved for people who don't turn into the Hulk every time someone makes a spelling mistake.

And yes, I love Adventure Time. So Heckyehbaconpancakes. Xx

 **P.S. I may not update for a while because this is just a test run, so comment/vote to get the next chapter out faster. I'm not just saying that for the sake of it - I actually haven't started writing it yet ...**

 **Edited: 27/02/16**


	2. Chapter II

Riddles.

Dear pimples, if you're going to live on my face, I need to see some rent.  
\- Irrelevant quotes brought to you by Heckyehbaconpancakes. I would have so much money.

 **Author's Note:**

It's a Christmas miracle! Or just a festive wintery miracle if you don't celebrate Christmas. Do NOT expect a new year's miracle. Because it will not come.

 **Rating: T because of language. It's not too bad. It may change for later chapters.**

 **Disclaimer: I'm not going to say this again - I don't own anything other than my plot line. The original plot line is by JK Rowling, so anything similar to that is hers. I thought of this version of Harry Potter by myself. So this story is mine, just not the universe it was created in.**

* * *

 **Chapter II**

Luna and Hermione were standing outside the looming oak doors of the Great Hall. Their belongings were to be taken to their new dorms after the feast and sorting ceremony (an ordeal that would drag on for an unmeasurable amount of time in Hermione's mind) - Hermione's, no doubt, going straight to the dungeons.

Luna had now memorised the entire first passage of her book and was whispering it under her breath to not draw too much attention to herself - practically hauling a book the size of a small elephant around the Hogwarts grounds on their first day was not, exactly, going to help the pair blend in for the time being. Unsurprisingly, Luna's plan wasn't as subtle as she'd intended to be: Hermione had taken to glaring at the general areas of snickering that were building to the overall hum of the room. Luna looked as if she were oblivious to the whole thing, although Hermione suspected that she just didn't care.

This was proven further when the infamous Draco Malfoy, flanked either side by his two cronies, - seeming much less intimidating to Hermione than they had hoped - strode towards the newfound friends, the rows of students parting for him like the Red Sea as to not fall upon his wrath. A wrath that could be reduced to a grain of sand when compared with Luna's. Stopping a few feet from Hermione, Draco plastered a smirk on his face upon looking at Luna - who seemed suddenly extremely invested in the confrontation hanging in the air. A small ring had formed around the group - a dozen or so ears (not so subtly) listened intently for the eruption that was anticipated by everyone within eyesight.

As the sea of people edged closer, Luna spoke to Hermione with a slightly louder voice than usual. "It's almost as if we're in Egypt. Although I do hope that this time around the sea comes crashing down just a tad sooner." Hermione seemed to be the only one to understand the reference, chuckling as Luna let out her own fit of giggles. A few more heads turned at the outburst that earned a snarl from Draco.

"I see you've made a new friend, mudblood. Loony Lovegood - were there no more rats left in the gutters for you to choose from?" A ripple of snickers flooded through the room followed by a smirk from the blonde.

Hermione just snickered. "I'm afraid you're going to have to do much better than that. It seems, Luna, that he does believe himself to be the new Moses. I suppose that would make us the Egyptians. With weapons and armor and a whole kingdom behind us. Although I think our morals _have_ changed drastically since the first time."

Luna smiled her oh-so-innocent fairy smile and announced to all of the eagerly awaiting ears,"Oh, Draco dear, how's the back. I heard what happened on the train. How embarrassing. Defeated by a girl. A muggleborn, no less."

Draco's nostrils flared and his fists shook as he leant forwards to breathe heavily into Hermione's ear. "You'll pay for that mudblood. Watch your back." With a hiss, he once again melted into the crowd, Crabbe and Goyle following close behind. "Oh, I will, Draco dear." Hermione couldn't hold it any longer, a long string of giggles rippled through her, setting off the rest of the first years. Luna went back to her mumblings, a small smile playing on her lips as she did.

Let the butterfly effect begin.

* * *

A woman with slowly greying hair - who introduced herself as Professor McGonagall - led the first years through the Great Hall, their awed gasps and comments ceased by a booming voice that echoed through the high-ceilinged room. An old man with a long, coarse beard nearly trailing on the floor commanded silence with a single word.

"Welcome back to those of you who have returned this year, and to first years I welcome you, as your headmaster, to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Oh, and please let me introduce your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Quirinus Quirrell. Many of you will already know him as your Muggle Studies professor, but this year he will take the Dark Arts position."

The man, who had now introduced himself as Professor Dumbledore, continued to ramble on, all words lost to Hermione after the announcement of the new DADA professor. A hissing noise sounded just behind Hermione's right ear. Then another behind her left. The sounds scratched at her brain, biting into her nerves. With a tremendous amount of concentration, Hermione forced the noise out of her mind. Her Occlumency had always been her strongest point -tied with Legilimency. But her Projection was even stronger. An art she believed she had created herself. The ability to project one's own thoughts and images into someone else.

Whipping her neck around in all directions to see the source of the invasion, she found her eyes focusing on the back of Professor Quirrell's head as he turned to talk nervously to the other members of staff. Every few seconds, she would feel a force pulling her eyes to focus back on him, unwilling to let her go.

A meaty shoulder bumped into her from behind, knocking her forward. She was pulled out of her odd trance as she regained her balance, the form of Gregory Goyle (shoving his way forward through the crowd as he made his way to the Sorting Hat) was in front of her. She must have zoned out for longer than she thought, and agreed in her mind to pay more attention to her surroundings.

Goyle sat down tentatively, almost hesitantly as the ragged hat was place firmly on his head. Within a moment the hat had made it's choice: a sly grin crossed Greg's face as the hat shouted 'Slytherin!'

"Hermione Granger." Dumbledore read from the feet of parchment, prompting Hermione to feign an expression of worry on her features, her legs shaking almost unnoticeably as she walked up the lavishly decorated aisle to the hat where it would all begin. Spinning around on her shaky legs, Hermione cautiously sat on the chair awaiting her fate. Dumbledore placed the hat on her head. It drooped slightly under its own weight, sagging into Hermione's barely tamed hair.

She could physically feel its mind rustling through her own, disregarding what it deemed to be useless information: how a tv worked, the recipe for chocolate brownies, the best season to pick blackberries.

It zoomed through every nook and cranny of her brain, stopping only to look at a box. A simple box with a metallic-looking snake winding around the wooden exterior. A box with no lock. A box that was impenetrable. Even to the most skilled legilimens. Which the Sorting Hat was. He paused momentarily, hoping to see any sign of weakness in its defense. There was none.

This thorough examination took less than a second in total. Hermione's fate was decided by a hat in less time than it takes lightning to strike six times. And that only takes a second. After seeing the rest of Hermione's flittering thoughts, the ancient hat knew that there really was only one option. "Slytherin!" Hermione just smirked and bounded down the steps to her new house when a round of claps welcomed her.

After a few more first years had been sorted, Luna's name was called from the parchment. She sat on the seat which had comforted so many others, her long hair settling behind her in subtle waves, as the Sorting Hat was placed gently on the top of her head. A look of confusion fell upon Luna's face, (a rare event) her emotions showing the battle the Sorting Hat was struggling with inside the depths of her mind.

After a brief pause that seemed too stretched out for Hermione, the Hat called out Luna's house. At first she seemed surprised, but a few moments after the shock wore off, Luna did just as Hermione had: she skipped down the steps and plonked down on the bench in a space to Hermione's left. Hermione, or course, was cheering her friend on for the duration of her journey, earning a few hisses to be quiet from amongst the crowd. She didn't listen, though. Who cared if cheering your friends on wasn't Slytherin enough? That's not what she believed, so why should she have to comply with their rules just because she was now apart of their community? (Kind of.) So she kept cheering as Luna approached.

Smirking from beside Hermione, Luna pointed at a fuming Malfoy - who now sat near Goyle a few metres away from the pair. He was mumbling about having to breathe the same air as 'a filthy piece of trash like that Granger girl'. "Oh no, wouldn't want poor Drakey to catch mudblood germs off a wretch like me. He might catch the sniffles." Hermione whispered to Luna, the sarcasm unmissable in her tone.

The giggles of the Slytherins in the immediate area were muffled by the return of Dumbledore's voice that bounced off the enchanted ceiling and rang through Hermione's ears. "Let the feast begin." Huge plates filled with food, empty ones in the spaces in front of students. Goblets filled with strange smelling liquid were scattered around, other ones filled with orange juice lined the edges of the Slytherin table. Hermione's mind wondered between the idea of glaring daggers at Malfoy through the feast and submerging herself in the food before her. She gave into the latter, although she maintained a civilised manner in which she was determined to uphold at least most of the time she was in public.

As she went to put down her drink and begin talking to Luna, she felt a pin prick the edges of her mind, surveying what was just beyond their reach. Masking her face into one of boredom, she expanded the reaches of her mind with a practised ease to engulf the intruder. She lit a fire at the borders, letting it spread to smoke them out - relishing in the fact that they wouldn't leave without knowing the pain she once experienced herself. Writhing in her brain, the unsuspecting mind left. It seemed as if the legilimens had already chosen a new mind to rifle through, judging by the Potter boy rub his forehead in pain from across the hall.

* * *

Hermione lay across one of the sofas dominating the Slytherin common room, Sense and Sensibility resting in her palms as she fought against the setting of the sun to read the last chapter of part two. The vast majority of Slytherins were wary of their new muggleborn, afraid (Hermione assumed) of what she would tell her muggle family and friends, and if they would cause the next witch trials, but on a much larger scale. After all, the first muggleborn in Slytherin house in, well, possibly history, was chosen to be there for a reason. This had perks, Hermione had realised in less than one hour of being in her new home. She could hog the sofa for the whole day with no more than a few glares and mild insults, no one willing to challenge her. For the time being.

Although, she did wonder whether or not that may have been because of the rivalry she was forming with Draco Malfoy, herself and Luna being the only ones being able to shut him up for at least a short while. Though Hermione was sure that no one would say that aloud, the possible fame and fortune offered by the Malfoys too promise-filled to squander.

These thoughts stayed with her up until the last of the light drained away from the sky, the moon rising out of sight from her view near the window. Stretching, Hermione decided it would be best to continue her research in the dorm, the only place she could avoid overhearing talk of Potter and Malfoy like the plague without seeming overly disgusted by both of them.

What she expected to see entering the dorm were a few trunks and maybe the bitch-witch skulking by her bed, day dreaming of her dear Drakey. What she did not expect to see was a hysterical Luna, throwing socks and pieces of paper around the room in a fit of rage, tearing through mounds of luggage. Rushing over to drag whatever was left of her friend at that point away from having a complete meltdown, Hermione shook Luna's shoulders and frantically tried to think of a reason as to why she would be on the verge of tears so shortly after their arrival.

"What is it? Luna? What happened?" Hermione asked, not willing to lose the first friend she had ever actually let herself care for. Luna immediately stopped shaking, her rhythmic rocking back and forth abruptly ceasing as she let out a humorless laugh and turned to face Hermione.

"They stole it. All of it. I saw them sneaking out. I just thought they were looking for Pansy or something. B-but, but then ... it's all gone. My clothes, shoes. Mum. My mum, she ... died, not too long ago. And they took all that I had of her. She's gone and I can't get her back. Just like what she left." She laughed again, this time with a watery smile, her eyes hardening afterwards. Again she laughed, a merciless laugh this time.

"Who stole it?" Pulling out her wand, Hermione stared straight into Luna's eyes, silently telling her she wouldn't be letting this go.

"Does that question need an answer? We both already know it."

The girls stood up, Luna whipping out her own wand as the pair entered the surprisingly full common room.

From the corner of the room, Malfoy snickered, sending fire through Hermione's veins as Pansy leaned on his shoulder. "Is everything okay? You seem a bit lost, Loony." He smirked in a patronizing tone, Hermione's eyes turning a fiery green hue to match the house colours spread throughout the dorm. She snapped. This was too far.

Hermione leaned forward, jabbing her wand into Draco's side, grinning when his face contorted and he winced in pain. Stepping forward so almost her whole body was pressed into his, she made her voice heard by the whole room: her next words making nearly all of the faces pale. "You took what was most precious to her. You took what was left of her dead mother's things. Don't think you won't pay for that. Don't think you won't get to feel all her mind-consuming pain tenfold. Because you'd be mistaken if you did." She lowered her voice so Malfoy alone could hear, "And count yourself lucky that there are so many people here. Because if there weren't, you'd be dead. Oh no, wait, that's Crabbe. You'd be begging for death." Hermione dragged her wand down his stomach, leaving a mark but not quite drawing blood. He winced and sunk to the floor as she pulled her body back, looking to Luna.

The fairy only smirked and approached Pansy who seemed to be the only one stupid enough to not take the warning seriously, everyone else shying away from the wand Luna was pointing dangerously close to the bitch-witch's face. "Where is it?" She whispered, her voice menacingly low.

"What? The bracelet, or the picture?" Pansy smirked, staring death in the face.

"With an attitude like that, I'm surprised you're not in Gryffindor. You're definitely stupid enough. Just tell me where my goddamn things are. I haven't got all day." Luna smirked, ending her sentence by holding the tip of her wand against Pansy's throat.

"You know, if you wanted your things back so desperately, you should have come back about an hour earlier. They'll have sunk to the bottom of the lake by now." Wheezing, Pansy laughed, not fazed at all by the death threat lingering over her head.

Luna jabbed the wand further into her flesh, not letting Pansy breathe for even one second. Hermione put a hand on Luna comfortingly as she stepped away and walked into the dorm, slamming the door behind her. Hermione followed closely behind, her eyes glowing before Pansy's laughed were cut off by a flood of water drenching her clothes, Hermione shouting over her shoulder, "Karma's a bitch," before leaving Draco to pass on her message. She left just before seeing the colour drain from Pansy's cheeks, the bitch-witch finally silenced.

* * *

The cool Autumn breeze drifted through the open window that lay opposite Hermione. She was biding her time, just as the air was. It was the calm before the storm, and the Slytherins would do well to accept it before they would all be washed away with the force of the waves soon to follow.

Easing a toe onto the creaking floorboards of the sleeping dorm, Hermione took her wand from the underside of her mattress and left the comfort of her bed to glide towards a portrait using the levitation spell that would be taught the next day, a spell which she had mastered as a small child, used to steal cookies when her parents weren't looking. Even as an infant, she had managed to perform it wandlessly and wordlessly.

She smirked as she remembered how.

The portrait was of a woman. More of a girl, really, judging by the small frame and features not too dissimilar from those of a child, but she held herself like a woman, with pride and an aura of power, even in the clutches and claws of her dreams. A descendant of Salazar Slytherin. Hermione reached a hesitant finger out to the sleeping figure's frame, and apparated to the place in which the figure was. The foyer of the home of someone evidently wealthy and not ashamed. For Hermione, a physical object related to the place she was apparating to helped with the queasiness, and her necklace was already there - the portrait would have to do.

A large crack sounded in the air - silenced quickly by a brief _silencio_ on the room, ending quickly as she apparated away. _They should probably check those wards. Almost anyone could escape. Or even worse, find a way in,_ Hermione thought, a snicker forming just as she realised her surroundings had changed. She hadn't set foot in this place yet. The smile died on her lips as she remembered why.

Composing herself, she looked slightly dizzily at her immediate surroundings - committing each detail to memory. Once smooth teal walls had decayed over time, age chipping away at the once flawless structure. Chipping away at the family that once was strong. Deceased branches snaked around the speckled marble banister, bearing flowers with the illusion of day-old freshness. Their dull white blended with the banister to create the perfect contrast to the calming hue of the walls. The calm before the storm.

As Hermione approached a lone flower, shunned away into a withering bud, she reached a slender finger out to touch it. A golden shine washed over the broad petals, and a new life was brought to its awaiting heart. It bloomed in a matter of seconds, growing more beautiful than any other. A small smile tugged at the corner of Hermione's lips, warming the cool air. She idly wondered if the flower's wait was anything to compare to her own.

Just as on the stairs, flowers decorated the dim chandelier swaying gracefully from the centre of the room. The slight twinkling of the crystals was the only sound coursing through the veins of the manor as Hermione tip-toed gracefully through the rooms, engraving each one into her memory, not disturbing the eerie atmosphere created by the untouched quality the home.

Lightly running the tips of her fingers across the tiny crevices and cracks of the walls leading up the cool stone stairs, Hermione looked upon two doors. Identical down to the rough scratches etched onto the last coat of paint, these were not just any two doors. They were the doors that showed the ghost of an image that could have once been. The doors of love and loss and life. The doors of the life Hermione could have had. Before the walls had cracked. Before the bonds of family were broken. Before her mother gave up her life to be with the one she loved. Before he betrayed her when she needed him most.

For Hermione knew what these doors meant. They were created, not by the family who once resided here, but by the house itself: it knew that they belonged.

Two identical rooms lied beyond those doors - everything in them exactly the same, just flipped as it would be in a mirror. Just like the people that belonged in those rooms. Hermione stepped through the one that was hers. She supposed she finally belonged. She supposed _he_ never had. She supposed it was her job to make him belong. When no one else would.

* * *

A trunk lay at the foot of the four poster bed, the only thing in the room not coated with a thick layer of dust. Digging through layers of highly illegal books and spare sets of pyjamas, Hermione's fingers found a chain of cool metal and clutched it in her hand. Carefully tying the clasp behind her neck, Hermione settled the pendant at the end of the chain in the hollow between her collarbones. She made her way to the end wall, upon which hung a mirror. Staring thoughtfully into the cracked surface, Hermione watched as she lifted her wand to perform a simple concealment charm, the necklace vanishing into nothing before her eyes, the only evidence left behind being the weight of it Hermione still felt pressing into her. It would require no additional charms to make it stay concealed, and no revealing charm would restore it, unless it came from her own wand. The perfect disguise: a simple charm, slightly modified and executed properly could get you anywhere.

It seemed unfair to fix the mirror, when all the things around her were still broken. So she left it. To splinter even more in the cold of the night.

Walking over to the bed, Hermione pointed her wand to the ceiling, both rust-covered windows snapping open at the deft flick of her wrist. A gust of wind flooded through the room, throwing what little personal items she had into the far wall, smashing the thin plaster. The dust was lifted cleanly off the surfaces, whisked away with the wind as it formed a ball and thrashed around the room before being flung through the windows, circling the gardens until finally disappearing with a pop, a rather anti-climatic ending in Hermione's opinion.

Shivering, she glided to the window, pulling down the frame until it slid into place with a thump and a gust of dust shooting into her face. Coughing, she flicked her wand down to close the other one, floating over to her bed as to not reduce her toes to icicles by touching the frozen floor beneath her. Lying down under the duvet, Hermione slid her wand between the mattress and the bed frame. She closed her eyes, filling her head with pictures to pull her thoughts from the threateningly ominous void that was so close to sinking its teeth into her mind. She was never going back to that place. She couldn't. But her mind could take her there without her consent in the dull throb of sleep.

So that's how she woke. Not in the light. Not in the warm. But in the darkness. In the land of ghosts and demons of her imagining. She would wake up thrashing, scared of tearing her limbs apart in her state of pure terror. That's how she would wake for the days, weeks, even years of the future. That's how she woke in the days of the past. All 23,711 of them. Most not actually waking at all.

* * *

 **Author's Note**  
Okay, so I may have lied about it being a miracle, but it's definitely mysterious. And magical. And probably some other adjectives beginning with the letter 'm'. But I would like to say thank you to everyone who has even seen this for being nice and even sparing a glance at my shitty little book. Because it makes my day. So thank you. And have a merry winter!

And yes, I love Adventure Time, so Heckyehbaconpancakes. Xx

 **P.S. Yeah, I haven't written the next chapter but I'm trying to get back into the swing of things so ... that may take longer than it sounds.**

 **Edited: 27/02/16**


	3. Chapter III

Riddles.

I really love being human. But some days I really wish I could be a fairy.  
\- Irrelevant quotes brought to you by Heckyehbaconpancakes. Fairies have magic dust and stuff. Having magic dust would be amazing.

 **Author's Note:**

Yeah ... This has been a long time coming. And I hope it's worth it to the people who read this. I really do.

Well, anyway, I hope you enjoy this even though most people don't see this because who has time for reading these? This is just an excuse for people to ask for comments and/or votes. But I don't care about those - I just want this book from my mind to be out there in the world so I can see where my mind takes me and put my thoughts on to paper (virtual paper).

 **Disclaimer: ditto, get with the program. No one owns anything.**

* * *

 **Chapter III**

Hermione woke up at 6am. Not by choice - although she was glad that she woke up at all. She thought she would've been able to slip into the Great Hall undetected; no students (other than Luna) would particularly miss her absence.

Luna would most definitely know the cause of said absence anyway, so what need would she have to show her face before 8am? That's the time that the general population of students and professors would filter through the doors, gazing upon the enchantments that enveloped the minds of hundreds, picking at the breakfast feast laid out before them.

That's why, at 6.03 in the morning, (when the sun was still down, shying away from the cold and wet of Scotland) Hermione was extremely surprised - and irritated - to find herself awake in the middle of her new room with a cool, scaly serpent snaked around her leg, slowly moving its way up her stomach, stopping a few inches above her face, its tongue hovering above her nose.

Its eyes were white - just white, a contrast to the black of its body. No markings and no distinctions, no line between the front and back of its figure. Its hood was flared out, and as it rose in front of Hermione's face, she was (for a moment) mesmerised by its movements.

It hissed a predatory hiss, pausing ready to strike as Hermione silenced it with no more than a glare. "Glad to finally meet you, Miss." The creature spoke, drawing out the s' on the end. Its unblinking gaze flicked over her unkempt hair and sleep-filled eyes, scanning for a trace of the blood inside her, for any evidence that she was who he'd hoped.

She just sat there, her fingers reaching out to touch the scales on his back. "If you're looking for proof, look for it when it's not the middle of the fucking night." And with that, the snake knew it was her. It had to be.

He didn't get to voice his thoughts, although Hermione wouldn't have paid them any mind anyway, because she paralysed him with a deft flick of her wrist, unceremoniously dumping his rigid body onto the floor with a thud.

She had an idea of who would appreciate him more. And it definitely wasn't her: she didn't want any connection to the house or her wretched family made purely because of guilt. The snake didn't want her, wouldn't love her. What reason would it have to do that? But she knew someone that needed an apology, who needed a reason why.

She just needed to find him. No matter how long it took.

Not believing in the slightest that her body would be able to sleep anymore, Hermione got up with a groan and retrieved her wand from in her bed, touching the pendant on the base of her neck as she did. Disregarding the frozen snake on the floor, she moved hazily through the maze of room in search of any kind of living area, ignoring the swimming surface beneath her.

Her bare feet rubbed against the thick strands of a carpet filling the floor space of a room Hermione had unintentionally come across. A gust of wind blew through the right-side window, sending a chill up her spine, reverberating up through the rest of her bones.

She could see her breaths in huffs in front of her face as she tip-toed around a coffee table to jump over the long sofa that dominated the room, landing with a thump as she sunk into the soft material.

Dust shot up into the air, filling the room with a faint sheet of mist as it slowly made its descent, eventually settling onto the floor around Hermione - a few particles landing on her smooth skin.

Using the same spell as she did the night before, Hermione used a jet of air to whisk away the great piles of dust that had accumulated over a great number of years, (from a lack of residents and much neglect) flicking it through the open window, not waiting to see it to disappear with a pop.

Still lying with her head resting lightly on the pillow underneath her, Hermione shut her eyes firmly, willing herself to clear her mind of and wandering thoughts.

As she entered into the depths of her cluttered brain, Hermione opened her palms, resting the backs of her hands on her bare thighs. Making her way through the sea of memories and thoughts floating up on the surface of her mind, she submerged herself into the surprisingly clear water underneath her: not feeling the cold chill seep into her veins.

Her surroundings changed - now she was in a forest, the singed leaves whispering to her as she ran to the black ash and burnt bark. She weaved her way through the scratching of the branches against her skin and the soft dirt underneath her feet until the blur of the trees blended together and every step forward felt like two steps away from what she was searching for.

Hermione turned and tripped over a small wooden box wrapped in ivy - the splayed leaves and thin vines seeming snake-like in the permanent evening lights filtering through the blackened woods. It seemed to Hermione that you did have to get lost to find yourself, (or just a part of you) even in your own mind.

She hissed a string of incomprehensible words, (to the ears of any normal wizard or witch) the box - now held loosely in Hermione's arms - clicked and whirred until the lid popped open gently. The inside was substantially larger than the outside; various books and scraps of paper lay sprawled at the bottom of the box, an arm's length away. Hermione reached inside to find a leather journal crammed into the middle of a stack of worn paper.

She was glad to know that no one had broken in whilst she was gone. Even though she knew that wouldn't be possible.

Tracing her fingers over the thin cover, Hermione's thumb brushed a thin spike attached to the clasp binding the journal together. It pricked her skin. A small drop of blood formed and slowly dripped onto the creased leather underneath her fingertips, dissipating through the cover almost immediately after it landed.

As this happened the clasp undid itself, revealing hundreds of thin, age-old pages covered in ink and what appeared to be small water droplets dotted around here and there.

Hermione carefully set the box back on the ground with its lid open as she lay next to it on the forest floor, clutching the small leather-bound paper to her chest. She felt herself being brought back into her body, her limbs flailing avidly as she searched through the water (that had suddenly materialised around her) for any kind of escape.

Her hair spread itself all around her face, a golden mane floating in the deep waters that tried to consume her entire body. Her lungs were being pressed against from all sides, what remaining breath she had, being forced out of her body by the crushing weight of an entire ocean on her chest.

Trying to clutch helplessly at any last drops of oxygen in her lungs, Hermione involuntarily pulled in an excruciating final breath, allowing the gallons of water surrounding her to invade her dying lungs.

Every inch of her skin sizzled and writhed under the new indescribable amount of pain that washed through her body. Black spots appeared at the edges of her vision, her mind went fuzzy and her arms stopped thrashing relentlessly in the dark depths - going slack by her side. Now the black spots had grown to cloud the entirety of her vision.

All she could see was a deep nothingness. It consumed her soul, it flooded her veins. She felt no more pain, no more water. No more anything. Thoughts evaded her as she tried to make one last attempt at escaping the crushing silence. But there was no escaping the land of the dead.

* * *

Hermione's eyes flew open, her body lurching forward on the sofa that she had laid down on not a few moments before. A searing cough fit was torn from her throat, although no water was brought with it. It was as though the last two hours had never happened. And she may have believed it herself if it wasn't for the worn, leather-bound journal now resting in her previously empty palms.

With a shaky breath, Hermione put a foot onto the soft carpet and dug her nails into the thin journal that she refused to let go of. As she hesitantly stood up, Hermione made a mental note to not do that just a few hours before having to go to school.

Her state of mind would not be completely right until at least one night taken over by a dreamless sleep. Which she didn't think would come soon.

When she wobbled slightly on her unsteady toes there was nothing to keep her balance. When she started to fall there was no one to catch her. When her head fell with a soft bang on the floor there was no spell to ease her pain. When the tears pricked her eyes there was no tissue to wipe them away.

So she just cried mercilessly to the rising sun and cursed Merlin for having no one left to take her pain away, even for a short while. She rubbed the pendant at the base of her throat, silently wishing that she would never forget the pain _he_ put her through.

It was only when her sobs died down that she pushed herself up from her position on the floor, finally managing to summon the courage to pull her body from the comforting silence of the soft carpet.

She left the saltwater tracks on her face, her arms still too weak to reach up and brush them aside. Sucking in a lungful of air, Hermione braced herself against the wall with an arm as she slowly, achingly made her way back to her room - eager to slip back into her dormitory unnoticed.

As soon as she entered her room through the scratched twin door, she let the leather journal fly across the room to land softly on the large bed. Pulling her wand out of the side of her pyjama bottoms, Hermione wordlessly apparated back into her assigned bed at Hogwarts with a pop.

She landed with a soft thud and a brief curse onto the squishy mattress: she had forgotten to wish away the feelings of nausea and was all-too-soon dealing with the consequences.

Dry-heaving into thick air behind even thicker curtains, Hermione found herself wishing silently for the second time that day. But this time her wishes were for the waves of dizziness to cease their relentless torment.

At least until she had survived her first day of school. She couldn't afford to puke up her insides in the middle of lessons so early on in the school year.

Running her hand through her hair, (that resembled a bird's nest much more than any type of actual hair) Hermione finally managed to wipe the tear stains from off her - presumably flushed - cheeks with the back of her hand.

Casting a quick concealment charm over her face, Hermione composed herself slightly and began to change into her robes.

A few minutes later Hermione emerged from her curtained fortress with not even a hint of distress left on her features.

Luna was the only one still in the dorm - the other first years could be heard giggling obnoxiously from the common room.

Her fairy eyes flicked up to Hermione's momentarily before she hastily replaced them back upon the Quibbler held tightly in her hands, her long hair making a wall around her face.

Hermione made her way over to Luna's bed and used a finger to brush away a strand of the fairy's hair behind her ear. Looking up at her through tear-clouded eyes, Luna smiled softly as Hermione spoke her next words.

"We'll get those bastards back. Maybe not today, but we will." It was only then that Luna sensed the change in Hermione's demeanor since the night before - from the faint mist in her usually vibrant eyes to the ever-so-slight bend in her posture.

Wiping away the few tears that actually dared to fall, Luna spoke with a voice more rough than usual.

"Yeah, I guess that's what Slytherin's all about: waiting for the opportune time to strike." A shaky laugh escaped her lips as she thought about the endless possibilities, subtly taking in Hermione's concerned expression as the girl reached for her wand. She performed the same charm on Luna that she had cast on herself moments ago.

Within the blink of an eye, all traces of the fairy's salt-water stains had gone. A small smile graced her pale pink lips as Hermione stepped up from the bed and reached an arm out to interlock her fingers with Luna's own - pulling the small fairy up as she did.

"Would you care to escort me to breakfast, fair lady?" Hermione asked with a small giggle, the corners of Luna's mouth twitching up into an earnest grin as she did.

"But of course, how could I refuse when you asked ever so politely?" The end of her sentence was muffled by the laughter bubbling up inside of her chest, erupting as they exited the dorm.

A mixture of confused glances and mean little glares flew by the pair as they passed through the common room and into the maze-like hallways, neither of them paying any attention whatsoever when Professor McGonagall rounded the corner, her dark robes billowing behind her in a sea of green.

It was only when the witch stopped abruptly a foot or two behind the girls and called out Hermione's name that Hermione tore her eyes away from Luna's silver ones and turned around (finally noticing the professor's presence).

"Oh, Hermione? Miss Hermione Granger?" She began in a slightly agitated tone, "Headmaster Dumbledore had requested that you see him in his office promptly. I believe it concerns the ... events ... of last night. Or so I am informed."

Hermione furrowed her brows slightly - there was no way that they could have possibly found out about the house. Hermione had spent the vast majority of her life perfecting her ward magic so that this would never happen. So that she could escape to the outside world at night, undetected.

Breathe, she thought. You're no good to yourself or anyone else collapsed in a heap on the floor due to a lack of oxygen. She nodded at McGonagall with a fake smile plastered on her face, replying with an obedient "Of course, professor", to which the older witch sneered slightly at, her own smile faltering, as she strode away from the two Slytherins to one of the many classrooms scattered around the school.

"Midnight escapade gone wrong?" Luna whispered, the slight dread in her voice beginning to show the further McGonagall got out of earshot.  
"Well, I suppose we'll find out - I'll see you in the Hall, it seems as though I have a ... meeting ... to attend."  
Hermione didn't even question how Luna knew about her trip to the house during lights out. She'd learned fast that Luna could probably find out whatever she wanted to if she put her mind to it, no matter how unorthodox the methods.

As the pair parted in the middle of the wide, stone corridor, Hermione took a moment to collect her thoughts, hoping to steady her rapidly increasing heart-rate.

Thankfully, she didn't need to ask for directions from any of the faces flying past her; she had already memorised the winding halls from a book locked in the recesses in her mind.

Looking behind her, Hermione noticed Luna skipping slowly to breakfast - humming an incoherent melody under her breath.

She chuckled and made her way to the headmaster's office, a skip in her own step as her thoughts wondered to the fairy that she'd had the fortune of meeting on a train ride to the future. Was it possible to be closer to a person she'd known for twenty-four hours than to anyone else she'd ever met in her entire existence?

* * *

Hermione entered the room through the curling staircase. Portraits of past headmasters lined the curved walls, each looking down on her with a sneer of superiority. They weren't the only ones with that expression, however - her eyes met those of Lucius Malfoy.

His white-blonde hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, a smooth black ribbon keeping it in place. His slick appearance screamed wealth, from his expertly polished shoes to his violently straight posture.

The air around him seemed to cower in his presence. All of Hermione's instincts urged her to do the same, but she had long ago learned not to trust those.

It was a matter of moments before Dumbledore decided to introduce her to the supposedly unfamiliar wizard that seemed to dominate the room. Seconds after that, she felt his piercing grey eyes burn holes in her skull as she fought internally with herself and clenched her fists to stop her whole body from shaking.

The slight curl of Malfoy's lip indicated that his scrutinising glare had had the desired effect. The reaction made her blood boil.

As Dumbledore indicated for her to take a seat opposite his desk, she masked the newfound anger on her face by pulling her features into a slightly confused expression.

"If you don't mind me asking, sir" she said with a sickly smile, "what exactly am I doing here?" Her words brought a scowl to Lucius Malfoy's face. It was waved off by the headmaster's hand which then proceeded to seek out another lemon drop (the third one she had seen him eat in the short time that she had been in the room).

"You know very well the reason for your being here, do you not, Miss Granger?" Before Dumbledore could get a word in edge ways, Lucius had snapped out his reply - a not-very-well-hidden sneer on his face as he all but spat out her name. The professor didn't seem to notice the murderous glint in the wizard's eyes as he tried to regain his composure.

"Lucius. Let's not jump to conclusions, shall we?" Once again Dumbledore waved off his vicious attitude and stared cooly at Hermione through his frail half-moon glasses. For someone who was seemingly all-knowing, Dumbledore could really be blind to what was right in front of him. That scared and thrilled the small witch simultaneously.

"Now, Miss Granger, it has been brought to my attention that there was a ... dispute last night between you and Mr Draco Malfoy in which some threats were made. Threats that will not be tolerated in this school. Am I clear on that?"

Oh, that event. Thank Merlin it wasn't anything else, Hermione thought almost immediately after the words had come out of the wizard's mouth. She really couldn't be dealing with anything else.

"Yes, not at all tolerated. If that's really so then I'll be very happy to tell the Ministry all about our little problem and have them expel this young witch, a muggleborn no less, for her outrageous behaviour." Once again Lucius voiced his own opinion before anyone else had the chance to speak. And once again his actions made Hermione's anger climb dangerously high. Her hands twitched slightly and she took a small calming breath before replying.

"You're correct in saying that there was an argument, yes. However, as far as I can remember, no threats were made by either of us. If you'd like me to enlighten you on why we were having the argument, I'd be very happy." Lucius seemed momentarily shocked by the fact that she blatantly ignored his previous comment, (although she still managed to mimic his words) a sinister smile plastered on his face as he tried - and failed - to intimidate her with his next words.

"Why, yes, please - enlighten away."

"Well, I returned from the common room last night to see my friend, Luna Lovegood, distraught and in tears on the dormitory floor."  
Hermione heard Lucius scoff quietly at the sound of Luna's name, her fingernails making deep crescent-shaped dents in her palms to stop herself from lashing out.

"She had seen Draco, Vincent and Gregory sneak out on her way in - thinking nothing of it at first.

"You see, her mother died recently and she had her picture in a frame on her trunk. Luna also had a bracelet that she inherited from her mum. It was clear that they were missing as soon as she walked through the door. We spent a lot of time searching for them, eventually coming to the conclusion that they must have been taken.

"She remembered seeing Draco sneak out previously and we went to the common room to confront him. The boys and Pansy ... reluctantly ... informed us that they had thrown Luna's possessions into the lake. Luna abruptly ran back to the dormitory in a fit of tears and I comforted her. We were actually going to report it to you today, professor." Hermione's words made Lucius' fists tremble in fury even as she tilted her head towards Dumbledore to speak to him directly.

"Obscene! Listen to her, Albus. You can't possibly believe such lies." He fumed, desperately trying not to rise up out of his chair and hex her into oblivion.

"What's obscene is the fact that Draco neglected to tell you the reason for last night's events. Even more so is that he fed you false information about what was said.

"If either of you choose to ignore me then feel free to take it up with any of the Slytherins that witnessed our discussion. Be very happy I'm not willing to press charges."

With that one last taunt thrown at Lucius' face, Hermione shot up out of her chair in an extremely unladylike manner and stormed out of the room.

She knew that even if they did question all of the Slytherins who were witness to her argument with Draco, none would tell the truth. They were all too protective of their own lives to speak out against her.

Being a 'muggleborn' actually did have its perks, surprisingly.

* * *

 **Author's Note**

Once again I am completely unorganised and I haven't started writing the next chapter but I think it should come sooner than this one so keep your eyes peeled. Anyway, thanks!

 **And yes, I love Adventure Time. So Heckyehbaconpancakes. Xx**


	4. Chapter IV

Riddles.

After a while, waiting gets boring. - Irrelevant quotes brought to you by Heckyehbaconpancakes. I'm very grateful to all of you who have waited this long. But writing is hard for a fourteen-year-old girl.

 **Author's Note:**

Voila! This chapter's a little shorter so hopefully it won't take as long for the next one to come out, as it is sort of the other half of this one. Although, mind you, I (sadly once again) haven't written it yet. I assure you that it will be spewed out at some point in the near future. I know the waiting gets boring, even if you're not that invested in my tedious writing.

 **Disclaimer: Please just stop torturing me with this nonsense.**

* * *

 **Chapter IV**

Hermione waltzed into the Great Hall, spotting Luna immediately: even the vast stone walls couldn't hide her striking hair, shining in the fog-tinted light.

As she approached the Slytherin table, she felt a familiar pulling sensation towards the back of Professor Quirrell's head, but brushed it off - sleep deprivation's really starting to take a toll, she thought. She began to notice that almost all of the Slytherin table was sneaking glances at her every five seconds, trying (and failing) to be discrete.

Slowing down her pace to revel in this new development - realising that almost the entirety of the Slytherin population had been counting on her expulsion - Hermione sought out her blonde-haired fairy friend.

It was as if Luna had felt the gaze glued to the back of her head, turning to meet her silvery eyes with Hermione's chocolate ones. The fairy smirked, cocking her head in the direction of Draco and his suddenly ash-white face. Hermione's own smirk fell on her lips as her gaze flicked over his pasty complexion. Their eyes locked and he tried desperately to regain his rapidly deteriorating composure.

Now a huge grin spread itself over Hermione's face, her lips beginning to crack slightly: another sign that she needed to take more care of her body. The closer she got to the table, the more she could see the fear etched onto his usually stony features. Bending down slightly to whisper in his ear, her voice was at a volume only he could hear.

"Are you alright, Draco dear? You look like you've seen a ghost." His expression abruptly morphed into one of anger as he gritted his teeth, the smoke fuming out of his ears visible from a mile away. Hermione turned to walk to the other side of the table to sit across from a now giggling Luna. She called back over her shoulder to him as she did.

"Oh, and I think your father wants a word." Hermione flipped her hair as she turned, her smirk growing even wider as she watched the rage fall off his face in seconds. The terror that claimed his features not moments ago was reborn, his whole frame quivering at the thought of his father's wrath.

A giggle threatened to burst out of Hermione's lungs, all her years of experience schooling her emotions evading her as she struggled to stifle the snicker with a hand.

She joined Luna and both girls had to look away from each other to stop their grins widening so much that their faces split in two like little China dolls.

Finally gaining her composure once more, Luna motioned for Hermione to look behind her at the growing table of professors. Snape, who was, for once, not glaring daggers at the newly appointed Dark Arts professor, had turned his attention to the Slytherin table. The corner of his mouth lifted in a subtle one-sided smirk directed at Hermione.

Luna leaned into her and whispered, "Well ... it seems we know where at least one person's loyalties lie. It also seems as if you've collected a few fans, Hermione." The fairy pointed over to a group of third year Slytherins who were huddled together at the end of the table, faint smirks visible on their features as one of them winked in Hermione's direction.

Hermione; assuming the role of shy, self-respecting eleven year old, blushed and forced herself to look away. She looked up at Luna through her eyelashes, head still tilted downwards. Luna's grin was lopsided, her eyes twinkling lovingly. "You're ... What's the phrase - a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma."

Hermione tilted her head in response, "And you wouldn't have me any other way." Their elated smiles spread wider. "Now, if you'd care to join me, sweet fairy, we have some lessons to prepare for." Her hand snaked across the table to take Luna's. The blonde witch stood and gracefully stepped up onto the long table.

Her pink trainers were visible from underneath the slightly-too-short robes. She carefully avoided the bacon, eggs and cereal littered around the table's surface. Luna's converse clattered against the cutlery and empty plates as she weaved her way through them. Stares followed her every step.

Even Hermione's glare didn't fend them off, but she wasn't overly bothered: her eyes were too busy gazing at the fairy too (although her stare was much more thoughtful). The grace radiating from Luna's every fibre drew her in like a moth to a flame.

Their hands were still firmly locked together when Luna jumped down from her position atop the table and snatched a piece of toast from behind her.

Suddenly she was being dragged towards the doors, toast in hand, by a chuckling Hermione. Luna was glad to notice the look of fear Draco had as McGonnagall came to a stop beside the table, beckoning him towards her with a finger and a scowl upon her face.

* * *

Their laughter echoed through the castle walls as the pair raced down the corridors, tearing through halls with utter joy. They didn't care about the stares that seemed to follow them wherever they ran, not even slowing to give some of their own.

Panting for breath, Luna and Hermione made it back to the dungeons in record time. Hermione stood back for a moment, leaning against a stone-cold wall, whilst the fairy braced her hands on weakening knees.

She had managed to lose the toast at some point along the way - either that or the torn up breadcrumbs had been left behind them like a trail. Hermione supposed it could have been Luna's way of committing the maze-like halls to memory.

She made a mental note to give Luna one of the more interesting maps of Hogwarts she had stored up in her brain. The thought of that didn't make her flinch quite as much as usual.

Hermione let out the ghost of a chuckle with what breath she had left and continued to drag Luna along behind her, arriving in the dorm moments later only to land face forward with a thump on her soft mattress.

Luna's landing was rather graceful, despite tripping over not only Hermione's feet but also her own. Her arms were sprawled across Hermione's stomach, one of Hermione's thighs in between her own.

Both witch and fairy had the decency to blush slightly (despite breaking out in a renewed set of giggles) after a moment or two of an awkward separation of limbs.

* * *

The pair strolled, arm-in-arm, into the potions classroom. Their day had dragged on, through Malfoy and Co. burning holes into the back of their skulls every spare minute, Hermione's patience wearing thinner at an increasingly alarming rate. If looks could kill, Hermione and Luna would have made very good fertilisers before the start of second lesson.

It came to a point where Hermione had to suppress a growl and grind her nails into her palms every time she felt the familiar sensation of hairs standing upright on the base of her neck.

Her only occasional comfort was Luna's soothing humming (to no particular tune) or the way their knees brushed against each other under the cover of a desk.

Soon all lessons on turning matchsticks into needles and floating feathers without so much as a thought blended into one long and tedious day.

That was why when their first potions lesson rolled around just after lunch, Hermione's attention was piqued instantly at the sudden change in atmosphere.

* * *

A few questioning gazes made their way to the pair, but with a piercing glare or two from Hermione, they ceased abruptly. Luna led her to the back of the room to sit on adjacent stools, directly behind a boy muttering something about 'dirty Slytherins' in an Irish accent and Neville (the former of which shooting them a brief scowl before turning back around).

The unoccupied desk at the forefront of the room remained so for not much longer.

Professor Snape - head of Slytherin house and, apparently, their new potions teacher - strided in with a swoosh of his cloak as if he had just traded their souls for a raise and possibly more holiday time. Although he looked not like a man who enjoyed a good book on a beach in southern France, swinging lazily from a hammock.

With raven hair pulled back tight by ounces of grease and a condescending posture that was slightly too stiff, Snape looked more like a man well suited to brewing whatever concoction he'd thought up that morning into something vile to spike his least favourite students' teas with.

Hermione and Luna smirked at each other, knowing silently that they both liked him more already.

* * *

 **Author's Note**  
Sorry for another note, but I just needed to make a few things clear that I may not have mentioned in previous versions of these.

 **Number one:** Luna is in Hermione's year in this AU (if it wasn't quite obvious already).

 **Number two:** Luna isn't actually a fairy - it's a sort of pet name I have for her, she just reminds me so much of one.

 **Number three:** I probably won't tell you about this at the time, so I will now - future technology _is_ in this AU. Not in _our_ future, but in theirs - Harry Potter was written in the nineties, I believe, so doesn't mention any modern-day muggle technology there or in the films. This story _will_ sometime in the future. Just an explanation as to why.

Sidenote: Constructive criticism is very welcome, I'm just starting to get better at writing, but I would appreciate some feedback so I know which particular areas to improve upon.


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